


halfway

by kagako



Category: Kamen Rider Saber
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, also rintaro is cute and dumb but its fine bc he is like i said cute, bc i said so babes, mei is schemeing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagako/pseuds/kagako
Summary: Rintaro thinks that perhaps, just maybe, this world is somehow plotting against him. Silly as it may be, asoutrageousas it may sound, surely it must be true. Seldom does this ever happen—the plotting, the way the world seems to rob him of what indulgence he desires—but when itdoes…[lgbtober prompt 4: sweet kiss]
Relationships: Kamiyama Touma/Shindo Rintaro, Shindo Rintaro/Kamiyama Touma
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	halfway

**Author's Note:**

> here's some rintou this time around ♥ i didn't get this one done as quickly as i'd have liked, but i feel like after that episode yesterday, we need this more now than we did like, a few days ago 😩
> 
> please enjoy! <3

Rintaro thinks that perhaps, just maybe, this world is somehow plotting against him. Silly as it may be, as _outrageous_ as it may sound, surely it must be true. Seldom does this ever happen—the plotting, the way the world seems to rob him of what indulgence he desires—but when it _does…_

He tries not to sigh as he looks at the empty, pale pink box void of éclairs in front of him. Logically, Rintaro knows it would do him no good, but he’s been around Mei and Touma for such a long time now that the urge is there, stronger than it has ever been. (He thinks that, in a way, it’s fascinating how spending so much time with someone has you mirroring their mannerisms and behavior.) The sigh is nestled there, at the very back of his throat, waiting to strike. Eerily similar to how the world seemingly waits to strike, he muses.

The more he glares at the empty box, the more it seems to laugh at him—ominous and taunting, worse than any foe he’d ever faced before. It sits there on the table Mei usually occupies, open and empty, an endless void. Rintaro inspects the wax paper with narrowed eyes and it is _then_ , when he sees the remnants of chocolate and crème stuck to the paper, that the sigh built up within him escapes, loud and forlorn.

Rintaro’s attention is so fixated on the empty box in front of him that he doesn’t notice Touma walk in from the back. He’s so focused, engrossed with the treachery that _is_ the empty box, that he doesn’t notice Touma calling out to him. Only when Touma reaches out, the palm of his hand settled against the middle of Rintaro’s back, does Rintaro register he isn’t alone.

He looks over quickly, his narrowed eyes going wide momentarily with surprise. “Touma.”

“What’s, uh…” Touma glances at the empty box on the table before his gaze settles on Rintaro again. There’s a foreboding feeling, here—one he has written about once or twice, but this time he cannot figure out whether the _good end_ or the _bad end_ would be the one to call the curtain. _Maybe a neutral end,_ is what the little hopeful voice in the back of his mind suggests. “… going on, Rintaro?”

Another sigh escapes him as he turns his gaze back toward the empty box. He doesn’t want to admit it aloud, but Touma is his comrade, after all—his partner and more _,_ through thick and thin. “It seems that I’m being… laughed at,” Rintaro murmurs.

“What?” Touma glances around the room, doubtful. “You’re being… laughed at?”

“Yes. I am.” Rintaro nods, and he must think that Touma doesn’t get it, because he laughs fleetingly as he pats Touma’s shoulder. “It’s a figure of speech, you know.”

“Right.” Touma goes along with it, because how could he not? He smiles and says, “of course. Silly me.”

“Silly you,” Rintaro agrees. “But, you know, Touma. It’s just as Mei says.”

Touma nods like he understands, pauses, and then says: “huh?”

“It’s just as Mei says,” he repeats, his tone turned sober, now. “It is I who will have the last laugh.”

“Huh.” Touma nods slowly, sparing a glance toward the empty box once again. That same foreboding feeling is still there—looming over him like a dark cloud, a storm waiting to happen, lightning threatening to crack and cause outages. He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t even want to think it a possibility, but Rintaro is his comrade—his partner and more, through thick and thin. “What, uh… what is this about?”

Rintaro takes a deep breath as he lifts a hand. He points to the empty box, and Touma’s gaze follows the motion. “It’s empty, Touma.”

“… Yes. It looks… particularly… empty,” he agrees.

“I’m at a loss to what has happened. Mei had told me yesterday she would purchase an éclair for me. She had told me she would make sure to save one for me specifically. And now it’s gone.”

“Uh… huh,” Touma says slowly. He tries to fight off the uneasiness as best he can—after all, he didn’t need to be writer to figure out what’s happened; or, maybe that’s why he sees the cunning behind this scheme. “And, uh… have you seen her today?”

“Oh, yes. Just before she left to pick up the éclairs, actually.”

“Uh huh… well, go on and tell me what happened.”

Rintaro glances at him, that same (endearing) curious look on his face—the furrow of his brow, the slight pursing of his lips, the tilt of his head. “If you insist, I suppose. It was earlier when you were in the back searching for more loose paper, I believe. I came in, and she said, ‘oh, good, you’re here! You man the front while I run to the bakery,’” he recites, his voice a pitch higher to mimic Mei’s voice. “And I said, ‘oh, like that?’ and she gave me the most puzzling look.”

Touma nods and hums, gesturing for him to continue.

“And she asked me what I meant by that, and then _I_ was the one who was puzzled.” Rintaro shakes his head. “I mean, really, Touma. I’m sure you would have said the same thing. Her shoes didn’t match her shirt; they didn’t match _anything_ she was wearing. My research about this world didn’t halt at just its inhabitants, after all.”

“I think I know what happened,” Touma says quickly, struggling to contain his laughter. He was sure that if he started laughing now, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “She was mad at you.”

The shock on Rintaro’s face almost makes Touma crack. “M- _Mad_?”

“You’ll learn that, _especially_ with Mei, you’ve just gotta let her do her own thing,” Touma explains, as Rintaro nods slowly in response. He thinks back to just thirty minutes prior, and wonders how he hadn’t connected the dots.

 _(“Rintaro isn’t coming back today,” Mei said. She hoped she wasn’t making it obvious that she was avoiding Touma’s gaze. Usually, she was a pretty decent liar—probably not the_ best _quality to have, but it came in handy when Touma was struggling with his deadlines. But Touma, on the other hand, was usually able to spot her lies,_ especially _when it regarded something she was Up to. So, Mei pointedly looked at her phone, trying for nonchalant. “Something about Logos business.”_

_Touma hummed, and she could feel his gaze on her—scrutinizing, trying to find a flaw in the carefully formed scheme she thought up._

_“So you can have that other éclair, if you want,” she told him offhandedly, trying to control the bitterness of her tone. “I put in an order for them yesterday so I could get them before they sold out. Since he isn’t coming back, have at it.”)_

“Long story short, it seems like she tricked me into eating your éclair.”

Rintaro’s head whips around quickly. He stares at Touma with wide eyes, disbelieving. “You… ate my éclair?”

“Yes. I ate your éclair,” he says, watching as Rintaro’s now narrowed gaze jumps down to his lips. Touma finds that he cannot quite describe the feeling that comes over him as Rintaro just stands there and _stares._

Finally, after a long moment, Rintaro murmurs a soft _huh,_ but he does not look away.

The feeling in the air feels a bit different, now—charged yet controlled, a spark in the air around them that makes it just a bit difficult to breathe. It had not been the first time Touma had felt this, and he’s sure it would not be the last—but each time it occurred, it left him feeling weightless and jittery all at the same time.

“I could always, uh…” Touma starts, watching the way Rintaro watches his lips move. “… give you something sweeter?” he tries, and mentally kicks himself because _who says that kind of thing,_ seriously; he _wasn’t_ that kind of novelist.

But Rintaro isn’t fazed. He glances back and forth between Touma’s eyes and his lips for a moment before he finally settles on Touma’s eyes. “Something… sweeter?” Rintaro asks, and Touma isn’t sure if he hears a bit of amusement in his voice, or if it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

“Yeah _,_ ” Touma says, and takes a step closer. Rintaro has to look up at him now, and something about it causes a nervous flutter to erupt in the pit of his stomach, but he pushes it aside, because how could he not? He can see, just barely, that the tips of Rintaro’s ears are reddening, and Touma’s sure that the expression on his face (soft, nervous) mirrors the exact way Rintaro must feel.

“Well?” Rintaro hums, quiet and expectantly, and it is then that Touma realizes: _yes,_ the amusement coating his previous words hadn’t been his imagination.

Touma doesn’t even roll his eyes before he tilts his head and leans in.

It’s chaste and gentle, just an easy press of his lips against Rintaro’s. It is simple and soft, but something about it makes him feel like it’s the first time. When he leans away, Rintaro’s eyes are still closed—and that, too, is much like the first time.

 _“Well?”_ Touma asks, loud and expectantly, once the other’s eyes are open.

Rintaro hums in thought, and brings up a hand to touch his bottom lip. A beat of silence passes before Rintaro finally lowers his hand. “I’m afraid that wasn’t enough to come to a conclusion,” he tells Touma frankly.

If it hadn’t been for the way the corner’s of Rintaro’s lips were curled up, Touma wouldn’t have been able to understand the implication.

“Not enough?” Touma hums at that and shuffles just a bit closer. He doesn’t mean to sound as mischievous and teasing as he does, but the way Rintaro rolls is his eyes is _priceless_. “That means a couple more times should do the trick, huh?”

“That is a likely possibility,” Rintaro agrees, and meets Touma halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ♥


End file.
